Project FMA
A lesson without pain is meaningless.

“Al! Alphonse!”

Lights and shadows flicker together against cold stone walls in a terrible dance, flashing around a young boy on his hands and knees; blond hair clinging to his tearstained face, teeth clenched, palms pressed to a fading chalked diagram on the floor...

“Damn it!” he shouts, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Alphonse! Stay with me!”

One cannot gain anything without sacrificing something in return.

The boy inches forward in a helpless, limping crawl, choking on pain and smoke and sizzling air.

“Mom…someone...oh god...” He sobs out unintelligible words, cursing, praying, pleading, unaware that he is crying out to someone he doesn’t believe in. “No...god, no...they took him! How did this happen? It shouldn't h-have --

The words melt into a scream as he reaches back with a trembling hand and feels the bloody stump where his left leg used to be.

No one answers the cries, for there is no one left to hear them.